


Sins and Spirits

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: The Reaper and his Archangel [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Summary:The years apart came with revelations.Excerpt:Saren detailed it all in his research. The transition had been insidious. By the time he'd realized how far gone he was, it was already too late. He tried to save himself, to regain his turian mind with the help of first Benezia and then Garrus but it was all for nought. In the end, his mechanized masters had taken away everything that made him who he was: from memories of his brother to any sense of pride he’d had for his protégés.





	Sins and Spirits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ooooOdefinitelynotafishgirlOoooo/gifts).



> A little off cycle update because it's my Birthday and I wanted to give everyone else a gift! Enjoy. 
> 
> Betas: [**Kuraiummei**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraiummei/pseuds/Kuraiummei) and [**Some_Writer**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Writer)
> 
> Theme Music: [**Saliva - Tragic Kind Of Love**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5d6GKeidpQ)

**Sins and Spirits - Oneshot**

\- - -

Sins

\- - -

The moment everything clicked into place in Garrus’ mind should have been just another unforgettable, alcohol fogged night like all the others. But instead, it turned into a revelation in and of itself. For the first time in his life, both halves of his consciousness were in agreement.

For as long as Garrus could remember, he’d been at war.

Light and darkness. Black and white. Angels and Reapers. The armistice came to him like a breath of fresh air to oxygen-starved lungs. The side of justice that followed his father’s teachings ordered him to save the turian who’d been shoved out of the bar and into the street. While the ruthless voice that had been cultivated through experience commanded him to end them.

It had been as simple as throwing the first punch.

Ignoring the shouting of the four startled attackers, his condensation dampened hand curled into a fist, swinging around to slam into the side of the first aggressor’s face, stunning them. One of the many bottles of alcohol he’d gone through became a projectile, another a bludgeon. Music pounded in Garrus’ head, something electric and pulsing. It drowned out the voices even alcohol failed to silence.

They were in agreement too. Shepard, like his father, telling him to save the innocent. Saren, like his own demons, telling him to ensure the mercenaries could never hurt anyone again. Both said the galaxy would be a better place for his interference.

By the time the ex-Citadel Security Officer was finished, he was battered and bloodied but alive. The unlucky victim who’d garnered the mercs’ attention was in a similar state. A great breath of air satisfied Garrus’ burning lungs and he exhaled out any remaining doubts. This was where he was meant to be. Looking left or right, it didn’t matter. Point and shoot, Omega was a cesspool primed for the taking.

Reaching out a hand, Garrus helped the abused turian up from the filth covered station floor. A lopsided smile spread his mandibles even as he wiped away a line of blood from his nose.

“You alright?” he asked the battered male. “The name’s Garrus, what’s yours?”

“Sidonis,” he said. “Lantar Sidonis.”

\- - -

Spirits

\- - -

The day the galaxy went dark was arguably the worst of Saren's life.

For over twenty years he’d served the Council and had become their best agent. His effectiveness and mission success rate had long since made him their favourite operative, one who could do no wrong. He had lived, bled, fought and killed for them; Slavers, terrorists, dirty politicians… innocent politicians, unfortunate bystanders. The sheer number of assassinations he had completed for the greater good would make the average person pale.

Then  _ Sovereign  _ had taken over his mind.

Saren detailed it all in his research. The transition had been insidious. By the time he'd realized how far gone he was, it was already too late. He tried to save himself, to regain his turian mind with the help of first Benezia and then Garrus but it was all for nought. In the end, his mechanized masters had taken away everything that made him who he was: from memories of his brother to any sense of pride he’d had for his protégés.

There had been nothing left but the core of his being, screaming in the dark, telling him to control events so that the pieces fell in the least damaging way possible.

Then… by the tips of his talons, he'd been saved from death.  _ ‘But for what?’ _ a caustic part of his mind asked. _ 'For nothing but more pain and suffering.’ _

In the aftermath of being ‘freed’ he spent his days in the dark. The people he’d given everything for had torn out his eyes and declined to replace them.

His holding cell had always been quiet and too bright. Now, with his sight gone, it was as though the volume was raised around him. Like a siren blared right beside his head.

Surely this counted as torture? Purposeless suffering....

Resting or sleeping of any kind required him to block the pervasive sound. But with only one hand, stifling the noise was near impossible. Laying down with his head against the thin pillow he'd been afforded and contorting his remaining limb over his crest was the only real solution. His bloodied and healing body lay upon the threadbare sheets and he would curl his fingers around his aural canals and try hard to block out everything in favour of unconsciousness.

The doctors, the same people that had once gone above and beyond to put him back together after missions with respect and consideration, now worked him over without regard. The physicians -if one could even call these monsters that- never told him what they were doing. They barely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Scalpel.”

“Sedative.”

“Hold him.”

The barest shreds of pride left in Saren Arterius’ bones kept him from crying out for the longest time. They never used enough anesthetic and he could vividly recall the cords slithering out of his veins like a snake through a tube as they’d yanked them out. He remembered barely being able to breathe when they’d torn the prosthetic arm hub from his shoulder.

Passing out was the only mercy he was afforded.

His silence was the only way he could fight them and maybe keep some of his remaining sanity.

All the advanced augmentations in his body were gone, the Reaper was dead.  _ Sovereign  _ didn't speak to him anymore. He  _ told  _ them that. There was no point to these invasive surgeries anymore.

No one listened.

His days were nothing but torment with scalpels and his nights persecuted by noise. Saren had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Meals seemed sporadic, sedation came in waves. When he finally realized five months of his life were gone it was an accident. One of the doctors mentioned a Salarian holiday of all things. It was the next week.

Saren wasn't sure when the hallucinations started either. It couldn't have been long after going blind. He'd expected someone he killed to come to him, instead, he was surprised to see Garrus in his semi-lucid dreams. The memory of his grey plates and blue paint, the imagined feeling of running his fingertips over the scar he’d left on Garrus’ cheek and what it would feel like.

Most of all, he remembered the sensation of a warm crest pressed to his own. Garrus had been a light in the darkness during  _ Sovereign's  _ reign. Spirits willing, the memory of him would bring Saren through this too.

It was almost torture in itself. He wanted for Garrus’ warm breath and damp tongue on the more sensitive hide of his neck more than he wanted water or food or silence. The dreams were what caused him to eventually break down and let out a whine of agony.

If only he could see the other turian again… even just… just once.

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
